


Put Out Your Beating Heart

by Lysippe



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: But it's okay, Endgame, F/F, Holtzbert - Freeform, I promise, because there is definitely, have some angst, here, it's an angst sandwich, on angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: "Yes. And we're dating."If there is one rule that Holtzmann holds herself to, steadfastly and unrepentantly and without reservation, it is that she does not lie about who she is. She doesn’t pretend to be someone she’s not, or put on pretenses for other people’s benefit, and she absolutely, definitely, does not, under any circumstances, make up stories so that people will think she’s straight.But Erin, apparently, does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY. I've been too nice to them lately, I needed to twist the knife a little. I promise there's a happy ending though. I've been wanting to write this scene since it came out, and I know everyone and their cat has already done it, but the idea was there and I'm SORRY.

“These are your coworkers?”

And Holtzmann is proud, the proudest she has been since she had shuffled into Rebecca Gorin’s lab seven years ago, eyes downcast to hide her mirth more than her shame, and informed her mentor that she had blown her chance at ever working at CERN – all because of a freak lab accident that was only about 45% her fault. She doesn’t think she will ever forget the resigned disappointment in Rebecca’s expression that day, and she _knows_ she will never forget the look of abject horror when she had cheerily told her it was all okay, because “I’ve got another job lined up already, at the Paranormal Studies department of the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science, and I mean, it’s not glamorous, but it’ll pay the bills. Well, most of the bills. Well, I’ll be able to sleep in the lab at least.”

“Jillian,” Rebecca had said, her tone measured and disapproving, as though about to explain the magnitude of her career suicide to a very young, very stupid child. “That institution is _not_ worthy of you. It’s barely worthy of the word _science_. And researching the _paranormal,_ of all things?”

Holtzmann hadn’t reminded her that every other place with any meaningful amount of funding directed at scientific research would throw out her resume the second they saw her name on it. She didn’t need to. There was nothing like putting a world-renowned particle physicist in a coma of indefinite duration to get a girl well and truly blacklisted in reputable academia.

So, she had turned her attention away from _reputable_ , and towards more _disreputable_ opportunities.

Opportunities that had led her to Abby, her best, and first, friend.

Opportunities that had led her into a passion she never even knew she had.

Opportunities that had led her to helping form the Ghostbusters, and saving New York, and making not one, but two new friends friend – that was a grand total of three more than Holtzmann ever really expected to have, so she doesn’t think she’s doing too badly for herself.

Opportunities that had led her to Erin, who is standing uncomfortably next to Abby, awaiting her response.

And Holtzmann is _so fucking proud_.

“Yes. Yes, and we,” she points at Erin, “are dating.”

She doesn’t even think about it, much less think anything _of_ it. She’s just stating facts. Her machine is unstable. Force equals mass times acceleration. She and Erin are dating. Rebecca will be happy for her; the only thing she wants more than for Holtzmann to succeed, is for Holtzmann to be happy. And she is, bizarrely enough. Happier now, even, than she was when it was just her and Abby against the world, fighting an enemy she hadn’t always been a hundred percent convinced was even real.

But at the same time that Abby nods in confirmation, Erin says something that makes Holtzmann’s blood freeze in her veins.

“No!” The shake of her head is vehement, and the look of wide-eyed panic makes Holtzmann’s heart hurt almost as much as the words that follow. “I’m dating the _receptionist_. That guy over there.”

And she had thought, she had really, honestly thought, that Erin was over the whole Kevin thing. And intellectually, Holtzmann knows that she _is_ , but it isn’t jealousy that’s turning her stomach right now. 

It’s the flat-out, thoughtless denial of something that, Holtzmann realizes for the first time, may well mean a lot more to her than it does to Erin.

And vaguely, as though she is underwater, she hears Abby, confused and angry, saying, “No! That’s not accurate _at all_!”

Because Abby is a beautiful, wonderful person, and the best friend Holtzmann could ever hope for, and of course she has Holtzmann’s back. She always has.

But Erin stands her ground and doesn’t say a word.

So, Holtzmann takes the deepest breath she can muster, widens her eyes, forces something approximating a casual expression onto her face, and says, “Whooooops. _Okay_. Back to the drawing board on _that_ one.”

To what drawing board, Holtzmann isn’t exactly sure. She doesn’t even know how to begin this equation, much less what the solution might turn out to be, and she’s not sure she wants to find out. All she knows for sure, is that she cannot stand the look of bemused sympathy Rebecca is directing at her right now.

Because if there is one rule that Holtzmann holds herself to, steadfastly and unrepentantly and without reservation, it is that she _does not lie about who she is_. She doesn’t pretend to be someone she’s not, or put on pretenses for other people’s benefit, and she absolutely, definitely, does _not_ , under any circumstances, make up stories so that people will think she’s straight.

But Erin, apparently, does.

And as much as she doesn’t want it to be, that is a problem.

\---

It isn’t until Rebecca leaves for the night, the lab stripped of all false pretenses of safety and acceptable lab security, that Holtzmann allows herself to think again.

Because another rule she holds herself to, albeit often unsuccessfully, is that you _never dwell on things when you can’t change them_.

And she couldn’t. So she didn’t.

But the atmosphere in the lab had changed dramatically after Erin dropped what could charitably be described as the biggest bombshell of all time on the room, and Holtzmann hated it.

Rebecca had, in her defense, obviously tried her hardest to not glance at Holtzmann with _too_ much pity, and she neither asked for nor seemed to expect any sort of elaboration on Holtzmann’s part.

She appreciated that about her.

But still. The lab was her safe place. Her feelings didn’t exist in the lab, good or bad, and neither did her problems. Only the steady whirring of her machines, and the dull thud of her heartbeat, and the faint scent of motor oil and ionization discharge.

Which is why she never left.

In fact, Holtzmann thinks, maybe she’ll just stay there forever. Despite their penchant for exploding from time to time in ways that only occasionally caught the attention of the authorities, her machines have never let her down.

And it’s not like she isn’t used to being alone with her machines, anyway. They’re a comfort to her.

Of course, Erin has to go and ruin that, too.

Her first knock on the door is tentative, the distinctive rat-a-tat sound of knuckles on wood in the exact pattern Erin uses _every time_ slicing right through Holtzmann’s thoughts.

She ignores it.

It comes again, louder this time, and accompanied by a timid, “Holtz?”

Silence. _Maybe she’ll go away_.

She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. This time, no knock, only a weary voice tinged with poorly concealed frustration. “ _Holtzmann_. I know you’re in there. Abby says you haven’t left all day.”

And the slightest twinge of anger bubbles up in Holtzmann’s chest, hot and sharp and constricting, until she can’t breathe properly. _That_ , she thinks, _is not fair._ Erin doesn’t _get_ to be frustrated. Not after lying to Rebecca, and lying to Abby, and lying _about_ Holtzmann, point blank and without hesitation.

But when the door opens, Erin doesn’t _look_ frustrated. She looks sad, and tired, and maybe, but Holtzmann might also be making it up, just maybe, a little _ashamed_. And she says, “Holtzmann, I—“

Holtzmann turns away. She isn’t _angry_ , per se, but she also isn’t about to let Erin see just how much her words affected her.

“ _Holtzmann_ ,” Erin says again, more forcefully this time. The frustration is back, and she strides across the room, stopping abruptly a few feet away. “I need to talk to you, but I need you to listen and talk back, okay?”

Holtzmann doesn’t know in exactly what universe Erin got the idea that she’s in any position to make demands, but she also doesn’t have any better ideas, so she goes along with it. Probably in that universe, she supposes.

“I just… I wanted to… I mean…” The words come neither quickly nor gracefully, and Erin runs a hand through her hair in aggravation, exhales sharply, and scowls at the floor. “I’m _sorry_ , okay? I wanted to – _needed_ to - say that I’m sorry.”

But it’s not okay, and Holtzmann isn’t about to pretend that it is for Erin’s benefit.

“You lied,” she says simply. And that’s really the crux of the matter, she thinks: Holtzmann told the truth, and Erin lied. 

“I panicked,” Erin says, somewhat defensively. “You did kind of put me on the spot there.” 

And that’s when everything goes to hell.

“You _panicked_ , after being faced with a simple _fact,_ and your immediate reaction was to _lie about it_? God, Erin, I feel a lot better now.” The words are out of her mouth before Holtzmann can think twice, her tone so acidic it shocks her almost as much as it shocks Erin, who flinches away. “I wasn’t aware,” she continues, the anger draining out of her as quickly as it rose up, leaving her bone-tired and filed with sadness, “that I was, at any point, supposed to be pretending that we _aren’t_ together.”

Erin looks at the floor. Then the ceiling. Then in the general direction of the blinking green light on the far wall that doesn’t actually signal anything, but Holtzmann finds its permanence to be oddly comforting nonetheless. She looks everywhere, except at Holtzmann.

“You _lied_ to one of the most important people in my life, about on of the most important things in my life. And it’s fine if it’s not one of the most important things in yours, but I’m not up for hiding and lying and pretending I’m something I’m not, so if that’s what you need—“

Erin cuts her off. “She believed you,” she says softly.

Holtzmann isn’t quite sure what to say. She isn’t even sure she’s heard Erin correctly. She had hoped, of course she had, that Rebecca had believed her. But for once in her life, her courage had failed her, and she hadn’t had the nerve to ask.

“ _She believed you_ ,” Erin repeats, more firmly this time. “Saw right through me. And she cornered me on her way out of the firehouse – that woman is _terrifying_ , by the way – and told me…” She trails off, lips pursed together, and shifts uncomfortably in white-sneakered feet.

Holtzmann wants to prompt her, wants to get the rest of that sentence out of Erin, but she knows that the second she opens her mouth, that train of thought is going straight off the tracks. So she forces herself to stand as still as she can, rocking only the slightest bit on her heels, and pretends her eyes can bore holes into Erin’s head like a soldering iron.

One deep, shuddering breath later, Erin continues, and Holtzmann doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t the words that follow.

“She told me that you’re too good for a coward. And that if that’s what I want to be, then I should strongly reconsider my choices in life and let you move on with yours.”

Holtzmann makes to say something, though she isn’t quite sure what, but Erin continues before she gets a chance.

“And I’m _sorry_. I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry I didn’t take it back, and I am _so, so_ sorry that I obviously made you feel like you are anything less than absolutely everything to me, because that’s fucked, and I’m fucked and I fucked _up_ , and I don’t know a better word than _sorry_ for that, but it seems like there should be one.” Erin is panting slightly when she finishes, cheeks flushed, and Holtzmann thinks she can hear her heartbeat from several feet away.

“Then _why_?” she asks.

“Because it’s not what you _do_ ,” Erin says, softly and without hesitation, shame etched on every feature. “Well, it’s not what _I_ do. Because I’ve spent so long trying to be absolutely normal in every possible way, and usually that meant just lying about everything, and I just… it just… _happened_. And that’s a terrible excuse, and it’s pathetic and I’m pathetic, I know that, but… just _please_ don’t think I’m ashamed of you, or of us, or this. Because,” she finishes, and her hands tremble as she reaches out to trace one long finger down Holtzmann’s jaw, pausing with her knuckles pressed against Holtzmann’s lips, “you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. And if I fucked that up by being too _scared,_ or too _stupid_ …”

She doesn’t finish that thought, but Holtzmann is pretty sure she knows where it was going.

“I don’t sneak,” Holtzmann says, and she sees Erin bite her lip, hard. “And I don’t lie, and I don’t pretend that my life is something it isn’t, or that _I_ am something I’m not. And that’s not negotiable. It never will be.”

“I know,” Erin says, her voice hoarse. “I know that, because that’s one of the first things about you that I feel in love with.”

“But that means that if we’re going to be together in any meaningful capacity,” Holtzmann doesn’t add _and I really hope we are_ , “then you don’t get to do those things, either. Because I’m not on board for that, either.”

“ _I know_ ,” Erin repeats, quieter this time. “I know. And I know that the normalcy ship sailed off a long time ago, and I don’t think I even really wanted to be on it in the first place, but I can’t promise that. That was my _life_ , Holtz. For years, that was my life, and it’s instinct at this point for me. And I’m trying, and obviously I need to try _harder_ , and I _will_ , but I can’t just... I can’t just turn that off.”

Holtzmann knows that. She’s seen it in play with Abby, more than once, and she _knows_ that Erin has the capacity to hurt them both, worse than ever before. She’s done it before. And she can’t even promise that she won’t do it again.

But if she’s willing to try, then Holtzmann can’t really ask anything more.

So, she doesn’t.

“Abby looked like she wanted to kill you,” Holtzmann says, grinning.

Erin’s smile is watery, but it _is_ a smile. “She did, I think. She told me that if I hurt you like I hurt her, she couldn’t guarantee I would be alive to regret it.”

And Holtzmann wants to crack a joke, wants to smile, wants to run downstairs and give Abby the biggest hug in the known universe. Instead, she keeps the grin plastered firmly across her cheeks, and says, “You should probably not give her a reason to do that. She might just, and I don’t think Abby would do well in prison.”

And Erin’s shoulders drop, releasing their tension, as her nose wrinkles in a tired, beautiful, but still tentative smile. “Please. You and I both know Abby would rule the roost in two days.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I don’t think the world is ready for that.

“I don’t think _I’m_ ready for that,” Erin laughs, and warmth and affection blossom in Holtzmann’s chest where just a few minutes ago there was only hurt. For Abby, and for Erin, and for the best damn people a girl could ever ask for.

And a little bit for the idea of Abigail L Yates in a prison jumpsuit, making the world her bitch.


End file.
